


The Red Apron

by sinslikescarlet



Category: Avengers (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bakery and Coffee Shop, F/M, Guilt, Incest, Maids, Marvel Universe, Sexual Content, Shame, Sibling Incest, Twincest, Whipped Cream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:02:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29420553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinslikescarlet/pseuds/sinslikescarlet
Summary: On a night out with his track team friends, Pietro goes to a Maid Cafe, only to discover that his sister is working there as the maid, Miss Scarlet!Rated E for language and sexual content
Relationships: Pietro Maximoff/Wanda Maximoff
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	1. Maid Macchiato

**Author's Note:**

> I binge watched a maid anime, and then this happened. Enjoy!

“Come on, Pietro, it’ll be fun!”

The guys had met up outside the mathematics building, and Stark and the other guys on his track team were attempting to convince him to go to something called a Maid Café. 

He glared at the goateed genius. “Is it dirty? It’s always something dirty with you,” Pietro muttered.

“For once, it really isn’t,” answered Sam. “I’m shocked too.”

“You guys act like I’m some kind of pervert!” Tony exclaimed, mocking surprise. “I am, but still!”

Steve slapped Pietro on the back of the shoulder as the group continued to walk towards this unknown place. “It’s kind of like a Hooters, but with French maids. But they don’t serve wings. It’s all coffee and cake and shit like that.”

Pietro raised an eyebrow at him. “…that sounds really fucked up.”

Beside the two of them, Bucky laughed. “That’s cuz it is. But the lemon pound cake there…it’s to die for.” The expression on his face made Pietro think for a moment that he might actually kill someone for it.

The white-haired speedster wasn’t all that impressed by a lemon pound cake. Wanda made those all the time at home, usually writing something cute on the top. If he remembered correctly, there was half of one back at the apartment that originally said “Have a great day” or something like that.

“What else do they have?” he asked.

“They’ve got these chocolate-mocha mini-cheesecakes that I’m fond of,” said Clint from the back of the group. “Plus, there’s the girls in sexy costumes. That’s a huge bonus.”

“Wait, has everyone been there before, except for me?” Pietro asked.

“We haven’t been able to convince Bruce from the science club to go, or Thor from the football team,” Tony frowned, as though his rejection to go was a personal affront.

At this point, the group stood outside café’s doors. The window pane for the front was decorated with frilly white text, spelling out “Maid Macchiato.” Pietro scoffed at the name. He hated to admit it, but it was cute.

“Fuck it, let’s go,” he shrugged, grabbing the front door for the group. The boys cheered, piling into the small entryway. Pietro entered last, barely able to close the door behind him.

The entryway didn’t offer up much in giving any hints of what the shop was, other than fine lace curtains blocking the entryway into the dining room. Behind the host’s table were several signs in plain print describing the rules. Pietro scanned them, a little surprised that these needed to be listed.

  * No touching the maids
  * Do not ask the maids intrusive questions
  * Do not make lewd remarks or gestures
  * No photography



He started to have second thoughts about all of this when the hostess emerged from behind the curtain. Her get-up shocked him, though the guys had plainly told him what to expect. A French maid costume. It’s not like she’d be wearing something else at an establishment called Maid Macchiato. A little white lace collar around her throat, a short black dress with a petticoat for volume, a purple apron, white gloves, thigh-high stockings, and a surprising amount of cleavage. He couldn’t remember the name of that weird lace headband thing on her head. It wasn’t a bonnet, right? Was it a hat? A fancy ribbon?

Pietro realized he was staring, and quickly hid behind the incredibly tall Steve. Hopefully that would shield his astonished face from offending the hostess.

“Oh my, welcome masters! It’s so lovely to see you all again!” she said in a sugary sweet voice.

“Hello, Miss Violet,” Tony offered, bowing at the girl. She giggled, holding up a hand to her lips as if she was in some anime. “Would we be able to get a table?”

“Of course, master,” she answered. “Is there anyone in particular you would like to serve you today?”

All of the boys started saying ridiculous names at once.

“Daisy!”

“No, Hazel!”

“Clementine!”

“I thought we were going to see Jade!”

Were these the names of the maids, or strippers?

Before they could bicker for too long, Tony held up his hand. “I apologize for my colleagues, Miss. We’d like to see Miss Scarlet, please.”

The group nodded, all in agreement, each one whispering to another about how pretty she was, or how nice she was to them. Pietro was certainly intrigued.

“We do have a newcomer,” Tony noted, motioning for Pietro to come up to the front. Before he could even resist it, Pietro was being pushed up to be beside Tony. His wide-eyed look of surprise must not have been hidden very well, as the girl giggled again.

“You don’t have to be afraid, master. We are here to serve you,” she curtsied, offering up a rather good view of her cleavage. The speedster’s face must have reacted, as the others around him were snickering.

“What, never seen a pretty girl before, Maximoff?” Tony whispered into his ear.

“No—it’s just—I—” he stuttered. He just wasn’t expecting it.

In truth, he hadn’t really thought of scantily clad girl before. He’d never really been interested in women, or men for that matter. He just hadn’t evolved into a sexual being like all those around him. Usually, he was able to play along, act like he was interested in whatever curvaceous woman passed by his group of friends, but for some reason tonight caught him off guard. It didn’t make any sense, though. He’d gone with the same group of guys to strip-clubs and he hadn’t been phased then.

Well, to only have one bad day in his 21 years was pretty impressive.

“As long as you agree to adhere to our rules, you are welcome to enjoy our café, master,” she smiled, standing up and motioning at the posters Pietro had seen earlier.

“Yeah, of course,” he nodded.

“How wonderful, master!” she grinned, clapping lightly. “Follow me, to your table, masters.”

The group of boys followed Miss Violet past the white curtain into the hidden dining room. The others seemed to know the place well, and took their seats without any direction. Pietro couldn’t help but look around in wonder for a moment. What a strange place.

The only word that could describe the shop was cute. Cute curtains hung up over the windows, lace patterns of flowers crawling up like ivy. Fine, polished hardwood floors, matching tables with lace tablecloths and little napkin swans. Each table was decorated with one accent color in mind. Upon crisp white linens were place settings, napkins, and flowers in one color of the rainbow. Blue, purple, green, red, orange, yellow…it was like a sweet mismatched rainbow. Various teapots, teacups, and other cutesy knick-knacks decorated the walls. Pietro’s eyes landed on a small recreation of Canova’s “Psyche Revived” sitting atop a high shelf, a dried rose in a thin glass sitting next to it.

“This way, master,” the young woman said, interrupting Pietro’s observations. She held out a chair for him. Once he sat, she gently pushed in his seat. She curtsied to the group before leaving.

The table had roses and red napkins decorating it. Miss Scarlet. Hm. The maids must have their tables decorated to whatever their name was.

“So? What do you think so far, Pete?” Bucky asked, a sinister smile on his face. He could probably smell the speedster’s uneasiness.

“Why does she keep calling us master?” he whispered.

The guys chuckled. “I dunno, some weird thing in Japan last I heard,” Sam shrugged. “Apparently a lot of these cafes are over there.”

“I like it,” Bucky winked.

A couple of other tables were occupied, but typically by a lone male. Only one other table had more than one, and it was three guys together. Not a single female customer to be seen. He started to wonder if the girls were going to strip or something. To not have a single female customer was extremely suspicious.

Pietro checked his watch. It was only 7:30. Wanda said she had work until 9 or something. He didn’t have a viable excuse to leave. Damn.

Someone threw a small menu at him. Steve leaned over and smiled, “Don’t worry, everything here is really good.”

Yes, because Pietro was clearly concerned about the quality of the baked goods. He rolled his eyes and took a look.

One side of the menu was dedicated completely to different types of teas and coffees one could purchase. There were at least 7 teas that Pietro had never heard of before listed. If this place wasn’t actually some strange sex dungeon, Wanda would probably like to try some of the teas. She was always bringing home something herbal that smelled a bit like soap. He flipped it over, and skimmed the desserts. Cakes, pies, pastries, cookies, cheesecakes, cupcakes…there was a lot of sugary offerings here.

Pietro looked up and saw that none of his friends were even looking at the menu. He squinted. “Just how often do you guys come here…?”

“Only every now and then,” Tony said nonchalantly.

“He’s lying through his teeth,” Bucky grumbled.

“Tony’s a daily visitor, and so is Clint. I come about once a week with Steve,” Sam answered truthfully. Clint started to deny it, but Tony nodded his head in agreement.

“…Why?” Pietro asked, exasperated. The prices weren’t exactly cheap, and the majority of them were at the college on scholarship.

“The girls,” all of them answered, practically in unison.

Except for Bucky. “The cake,” he said.

“And this Scarlet, she’s your favorite?”

The guys started to murmur the names and good qualities of the others, but eventually ended up nodding in agreement.

“She’s the nicest out of all of them, plus she’s got this smile…” Tony started to say.

“He means tits,” Bucky whispered.

“Shuttup!” Tony frowned, smacking Bucky upside the head.

Pietro went back to looking at the menu as the other boys bickered. Nothing really jumped out at him. He got almost everything on the menu at home with Wanda. She’d joined this baking club at the start of the school year and tested out all her recipes on her twin. He certainly wasn’t complaining about that.

It took a couple of minutes, but he finally decided on a strawberry shortcake. He hadn’t had one of those in years. Just as he turned it over to review the different coffees, he felt Steve’s hand smacking his arm.

“Look! Here she comes!” he whispered.

Pietro put down the menu and looked up.

Was that…Wanda?


	2. Strawberry Shortcake

“Hello masters! It’s so nice to see you all again!” the maid smiled, curtseying to the group. The boys all chimed in a greeting, all except for Pietro. He couldn’t stop staring.

Her hair was curled, and her face was painted with make-up. Ruby red lips perfectly matched her apron. A tiny red bow was placed at the center of the stand-alone collar on her neck. Her gloves and stockings were that same enchanting color of crimson. She had to be wearing a corset underneath, because her cleavage was greatly exposed. Instead of one of those little ribbon, bonnet things, she wore a crown of roses.

This must’ve been some sick prank. The guys were fucking with him. He’d tripped during their last track meet, and this had to be their way of punishing him. Somehow, they’d rented out a café, decorated it head to toe, invited actors to play customers and the other maids, and convinced Wanda to dress up in this ridiculous outfit. Just to mess with him. For tripping.

“Hellooooo, Miss Scarlet,” Tony purred, giving her a once over.

“Hello Master Stark,” she giggled. “You’ve brought so many familiar faces with you tonight. It is always a pleasure to see you all.”

“We’ve brought a new friend for you to meet,” Tony grinned. He got up and started to walk over to Pietro’s chair.

No no no no no no. Absolutely not. Pietro instinctively got out of his chair and hid behind Steve. The group started laughing at the speedster’s apparent shyness.

“Aw, come on man!”

“Come on out, bud!”

“She doesn’t bite, promise!”

“Oh dear!” Wanda exclaimed, “My poor new master!”

Tony grabbed Pietro from behind Steve, and brought him out for “Miss Scarlet” to see.

He could’ve sworn he’d stopped breathing at this point. Pietro stared, wide-eyed and mouth slightly ajar, as he was presented to his sister.

Wanda finally laid eyes on her brother, and she took a shaky step back. Her face turned the same shade as her apron, the blush spreading past her face and onto her ears and her neck.

Okay. So it wasn’t a prank. She looked truly and genuinely embarrassed. Wanda wouldn’t be able to fake that look in her eyes.

The others didn’t seem to notice. Steve jabbed Pietro in the ribs with his elbow. “Say something.”

“H-Hello,” Pietro squeaked.

Wanda seemed to compose herself somewhat, giving her brother a curtsey. “Hello, Master. What should I call you?”

Was she going to pretend as if they didn’t know each other? Pietro stumbled over his words to say his name, but ended with gibberish.

“Call him Pietro,” Tony winked. “He’s from Europe.”

“How exotic,” Wanda cooed, fully back into character now. “Welcome, Master Pietro. What can I get for you?”

The speedster fumbled to find the menu, and pointed out the strawberry shortcake.

“That’s a lovely choice, master,” she smiled. “What to drink?”

“C-c-coff—coff—” he tried to say.

“Coffee. He’ll take a coffee,” Tony answered for him.

“Wonderful, master. And for you, Master Steven?”

Pietro managed to take back his seat as Wanda went through everyone’s orders, writing everything down in a little red notebook with a fancy red pen. He recognized that pen. He’d gotten it for her when she was accepted into the literacy program at college.

She finally finished taking the orders and curtsied once more, promising to come back shortly. As she disappeared behind a white curtain that presumably led to the kitchen, the group of boys erupted into laughter.

“My God, Maximoff, I’ve never seen a display like that!” Tony smiled. “I wish I could’ve recorded it!”

“Damn, man, you reacted better at the strip club last year!” Clint chided.

“I’m sorry, Pete, but that was really bad,” Steve grinned.

“I—I don’t know what came over me,” Pietro said quietly, trying to calm down the group.

“I think our silver-fox has fallen in lovey-wovey,” Bucky smirked. The others joined in the laughter.

Pietro flushed at that. That wasn’t it, he wanted to protest. He just didn’t know how to react to seeing his sister in a sexy maid costume!

Fuck.

Why did he think that? Why did he use the word sexy to describe Wanda? No, no. He was describing the costume, not Wanda. Right. Just the costume.

He wasn’t in love with Wanda. Well, no—he loved her, just not like that. She was his sister, the sweet girl he always needed to keep safe. It was a normal, protective, brotherly love that he felt. Nothing perverted or anything like that.

“You guys are blowing this out of proportion,” Pietro frowned. “Cut me some slack, okay?”

“Yeah, come on guys. He’s just discovered he’s got a maid kink. Let’s give him some slack,” Tony winked. The guys laughed and eventually started talking about the next track meet or classes. Pietro simply slumped in his chair, glad to be out of the spotlight for a moment and take a breath.

It really was only for a moment because soon enough Wanda was back, balancing a tray full of drinks. Instinctively Pietro began to stand up to help her carry it, but sat right back down. She was acting like she didn’t even know him. Why would he help her if they were perfect strangers? Especially if he was her master or whatever.

Heat hit his cheeks as he heard her give Sam his drink and call him master. Why was that so…hot? No, no no no no. It wasn’t hot. It was just…weird. Yes, that’s what it was. Just weird to hear his sister say that.

“Here you are, Master Pietro,” Wanda practically sang. The speedster was ashamed to admit he stared at the glorious view of cleavage that he got when she leaned over him to place his coffee on the table. As she continued around the table, Pietro grabbed his coffee, hoping that it would burn away those impure thoughts.

He took a deep sip, enjoying the dark roast. Three sugars and one cream. She’d made it just as he liked it. Pietro blushed. So, she was just pretending to not know him, and not suffering some strange, maid-outfit-induced amnesia. She probably didn’t want his friends to know they were related. Wanda could potentially lose a lot of tip money if the guys were afraid to hit on her.

A hint of anger rose up in him when he noticed Steve looking down her shirt as she placed his iced tea on the table. At first, he felt completely justified in his rage—how dare someone look down Wanda’s shirt?! But he’d just done it a second ago. How could he be upset at his friend for doing the same thing he’d just done? If anything, he should be even angrier at himself for looking down her shirt. He was her brother, her protector. Pietro took another scalding drink of coffee.

“Oh dear,” Wanda said, almost sounding sad. “You’ll burn your tongue if you drink any more of that!”

Pietro looked up in surprise, seeing that Wanda was talking about him.

“How clumsy of me, master! I should have added an ice cube to your drink before serving it. Can you ever forgive me?”

Wanda was staring at him with those bright green eyes, looking like a child who had accidentally broken a vase. As if him drinking scalding hot coffee was her fault.

“What?” he asked, like an idiot.

“Oh master, please forgive me!” Wanda pleaded, rushing to his side and kneeling by his chair. “I’m so sorry!”

The whole group started to assure her it was alright, and that she’d done nothing wrong. It would’ve been humorous to watch five college age athletes fawn over this girl in a French maid costume if Pietro didn’t feel like a horrible human being at the time.

“Miss Scarlet, don’t mind him, he’s a dumbass!”

“Don’t be upset Miss Scarlet!”

“It’s not your fault, Miss Scarlet!”

Pietro stared down at Wanda, unsure of what to do. He started to reach out for her hand, but stopped himself. That was the first rule—no touching.

“I-I forgive you,” Pietro said with a somewhat shaky voice.

Wanda’s face changed immediately from forlorn to joyful. She jumped up and smiled at her brother. “Oh wonderful! Thank you, master! I’ll get you another coffee, right away!”

Pietro watched, dumbfounded as she scurried off behind the white curtain.

“…What just happened?” he asked.

“That’s one of the things they do here,” Steve said, as though it was completely normal. “They make up a mistake and beg for forgiveness. Puts us in a position of power.”

“But aren’t we already master?”

“It probably turns on a bunch of guys to have a girl do that. She’s just making sure you get your money’s worth,” Sam noted.

“Yeah, there’s a reason why the cake is nearly twenty dollars a slice,” Bucky grumbled.

Wanda came out from the curtain once more, this time her tray full of desserts. Bucky immediately sat up and smiled brightly.

Huh. Maybe he really was only interested in the cake. Pietro held back a laugh as Wanda handed out each person’s order. Each one of the guys smiled like idiots as she placed their desserts in front of them.

“My, my, is that big smile for me?” Wanda cooed.

Pietro jumped a little in his seat. She was right beside him now, his strawberry shortcake in one hand, the other balancing the empty tray.

“Here you are, master. I hope you enjoy every bite,” she purred, nearly whispering that last line in his ear.

The guys snickered as Wanda curtsied and walked away. Pietro couldn’t help but stare as she disappeared behind the curtain, mesmerized by the way her skirt swayed and bopped with each movement of her hips.

“Shit, calm down, Maximoff!” Steve whispered at Pietro, throwing a napkin on his friend’s lap. “You’ll get us kicked out.”

The speedster looked up at his friend in surprise. What did he mean? Pietro picked up the napkin and saw what Steve was referring to.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

He was getting hard.

Pietro promptly put the napkin back over his crotch to hide the evidence. Luckily it appeared that everyone else was so caught up in their desserts that they didn’t notice the call out.

“I’m pretty sure you have a maid kink,” the more muscular man grinned, taking a big bite of apple pie.

“Shuttup, Rogers,” Pietro glared.

The group chatted amongst themselves as they ate. The speedster primarily watched the other tables, observing how the other customers acted, and what the maids did. It was nearly universal. The customer would watch the maid like a hawk whenever she was out, and would ask her to do several menial tasks. A refill, get some sugar, order another dessert, ask for her to write something in chocolate on their cake…and never once did they say please. The maid would always comply, call the customer master, and occasionally engage in some playful flirting. It seemed to be a strange, mildly erotic power trip for the customers. However, with the amount of money left on the table when one customer left, it certainly seemed to be well worth the maid’s time and effort.

Did Wanda do this every time she went to work? For a few hours every other day, did she curtsey, shake her hips a little, giggle and flirt with strangers? And why did the thought of it make him incredibly jealous? Pietro ate his dessert slowly, contemplating these thoughts with each bite.

“Oh dear, master! You’ve got some whipped cream on your face!”

Pietro turned and saw Wanda was next to him. How had she snuck up on him like that?

“Here, let me get that for you,” she smiled, reaching out and wiping the whipped cream off his cheek with a finger. She winked at him, then proceeded to put the cream in her mouth.

Pietro was pretty sure he was going to have a stroke.

“Silly, master! Don’t be so messy in the future, or I’ll have to clean you up again!” she giggled. She started collecting empty plates as the others looked on with jealousy.

“I’m getting that next time,” Tony declared. “And I’m a messy eater, Miss Scarlet.”

“Oh master! You’re so funny,” she giggled, heading back behind the curtain again.

“She likes you,” Sam laughed. “I don’t think she’s done that with any one before. Not even Tony!”

“Can we leave?” Pietro whimpered, covering his face with his hands.

“Once I’m done eating,” Bucky growled. “I haven’t gotten seconds yet.”

The group ended up staying another hour, almost everyone getting seconds, Bucky getting thirds. Each member of the track team seemed to be greatly enjoying themselves, smiling, laughing, making jokes, and of course, ogling over Wanda. Pietro did his best to maintain his composure, often times having to think of difficult math equations to get his head out of the gutter. Every time Wanda came out from behind the curtain, she gave him a smile, a wink, or said something flirtatious. Thank God for the napkin that hid his shameful response.

After what felt like an eternity, Tony finally paid. His family had plenty of money, so dropping over $200 wasn’t much to him. Wanda gave a final curtsy before the group left out the front door.

Pietro took in a deep breath of the cold air once outside. Finally. He needed to get home. The guys were giving him all congratulations on winning Wanda’s affections and saying they were going to take him again in hopes that they would get some of it next time. He gave them whatever smiles he could muster before saying he had to go home to study. The guys bid him farewell, and went off into the night, presumably to a bar or someplace like that.

The newfound silence was almost deafening. Without the guys to distract him, Pietro was now left with just his thoughts…and there were certainly plenty of them.


	3. Lemon Pound Cake

The walk back to the apartment was quiet, and yet so loud. Pietro’s mind just wouldn’t shut up. What exactly was Wanda playing at? Why would she take a job like this? And why did she act the way she did when Pietro was there? She flirted with him, for heaven’s sake. It’s not like he didn’t recognize her—his initial reaction and overall uneasiness the whole time had to tell her that.

Perhaps the loudest question out of them all was this: why was he so turned on when he thought of her in that damn outfit? He almost never experienced any kind of sexual attraction, and when it did, it was barely noticeable. How come, with just the image of Wanda in that stupid get up, he felt warm all over? A warmth in the pit of his stomach grew whenever he imagined her, leaning over him to place something on the table, her breasts practically spilling out of her top. This wasn’t supposed to happen. That was his sister, damn it all! He was supposed to protect her from people who looked down her top, not be the one doing it.

Maybe he was some kind of pervert, and just didn’t know it until now. Did he have a maid kink? No, that didn’t really make sense. There were other maids that were there that evening, and the only thing he felt when he saw them was a mixture of confusion and surprise. Only Wanda elicited a sexual reaction.

Fuck, he was never going to live this down. Not only were the guys going to give him a hard time from here on out, but how was Wanda going to react? In the café she acted as though he was perfect stranger, and yet she made his coffee just the way he liked it. She winked at him when she caught him staring at her. What did that mean?

Pietro ran his hands through his hair as he walked through the lobby to their apartment complex. He sighed deeply as he went up the three floors, almost wishing that he’d waited outside of the café instead of going home. Maybe when she was leaving her shift, he’d be able to get some answers from her. Something told him that when Wanda got home, she’d act as though nothing had happened. Maybe that would be for the better, actually. Just pretend as though Pietro hadn’t seen her in that skimpy outfit, and that she hadn’t openly flirted with him. Just act like everything was normal.

The speedster considered the idea as he put away his backpack and books. It would certainly be the easiest option, that’s for sure. But what about his feelings? That probably shouldn’t be ignored. What if they only grew? What if he started having sexual fantasies about Wanda? It’s not like he could just ignore that.

To occupy his hands, Pietro started washing all the dishes in the sink. In the corner of his eye, he saw the half of the lemon pound cake sitting in the pretty cake dish Wanda had won in a baking competition with her club. Quickly he dried his hands and went over and lifted the lid to reveal the message she wrote on it. His initial memory had been wrong. He’d thought it had said something along the lines of “Have a great day!” or “Good morning.”

No. Instead, it said “Best Brother.”

Pietro’s face flushed. Yeah, some brother he was. He covered the cake and returned to the dishes, his mind overwhelmed with shame. He was anything but the best brother. In fact, he didn’t even think he was a good brother anymore. If you’d asked him at 6 that night, he would have said he was a damn good brother, but in just the span of a couple hours, he completely lost that title.

He’d lost track of how much time had passed by the time the door opened. Pietro had been repeatedly cleaning the same bowl for quite some time, his mind in a fog.

“I’m home,” Wanda called out, shutting the door behind her. She walked into the living room, wearing completely normal clothing. A red sweater and jeans. Nothing sexual about that.

So why did Pietro’s heart start to race at the sight of her?

“H-Hey,” he greeted, looking away.

“Are we going to talk about tonight?” she asked, walking into the kitchen.

Pietro swallowed hard, scrubbing the same bowl again. “If…If you want to.”

“I think we should.” Wanda leaned against the counter closest to the sink, and looked directly at her brother.

“What do you want to talk about?” Pietro asked quietly, turning his head away from her intense eyes.

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” she said, her voice soft. “This was more of a surprise to you than to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I knew your friends would bring you by at some point. I just wasn’t sure exactly when that would be.”

“Oh…huh.”

The two stood in silence for a couple of minutes, Pietro continuing to absent mindedly scrub the bowl.

“Pietro.”

He stopped scrubbing. “Y-yes?”

“Look at me.”

He shut his eyes closed. “I-I don’t want to.”

Wanda took a step over and placed a hand on her brother’s arm. “Why not?”

Her voice was gentle and kind. Usually it was the other way around, Pietro comforting a distressed Wanda with a smooth voice and a soft touch.

“What if I open them and you’re wearing that…that outfit again?”

A slight chuckle escaped Wanda’s lips. “Does it frighten you?”

“Not exactly,” he admitted. “It’s…it’s what it makes me think that frightens me.”

The bowl that Pietro had been cleaning was removed from his hands, a clink heard from the drying rack. Wanda’s warm hands grabbed ahold of her brother’s cold and wet ones.

“Why do your thoughts frighten you?” she nearly whispered, almost like she was afraid to ask.

Slowly Pietro opened his eyes and looked down at his sister. Her bright green eyes stared up at him, her face clean of any make-up, her curls pulled back in a messy pony tail. She looked completely different than how she did at the café, and still, that feeling of desire was overwhelming him.

“Because…” he began, pushing back a stray lock of his sister’s hair, “…because they tell me to do things I shouldn’t do.”

“Like what? What to do they tell you to do?”

Pietro looked away, closing his eyes again. “Do you really want to know?”

“I do.”

“You’ll hate me.”

“I could never hate you, Pietro,” Wanda stated, a hand moving up to force his face towards hers.

He opened his eyes, and tried his best to keep them open. “E-Even if I told you that those thoughts were to kiss you? You still wouldn’t hate me?”

Wanda’s cheeks turned a sweet shade of pink at that. She nodded. “I wouldn’t hate you.”

“What if I told you those thoughts were that I wanted to touch you?”

She nodded again. “I still wouldn’t hate you.”

“What if I told you those thoughts were that I wanted to take your clothes off?”

“I still wouldn’t hate you,” she said, her blush growing.

Pietro began to caress her cheek gently as he spoke once more. “What if I told you those thoughts were that I wanted to sleep with you?”

“I-I still wouldn’t hate you,” she repeated, her voice shaking a little.

He leaned down, his lips barely an inch away from her ear. “What if I told you those thoughts were that I wanted to fuck you?”

She let out a little gasp, her body stiffening for a moment. “I…I still wouldn’t hate you.”

Pietro pulled back just enough that he could tilt Wanda’s head up closer to his own. Their lips were so close. His hand shook as he ran a finger down her nape. “What if…what if I did it?”

Wanda’s eyes searched his, green emeralds boring into deep sapphires. Her lips trembled and she swallowed before speaking.

“What if I want you to?”

Pietro let go of his sister’s face and took a step back from her. His heart was beating at such a pace it was as if he’d just finished a race. His still shaking hand ran through his snowy white hair as he tried to catch his breath.

“Do you mean that?” Pietro asked. “You really want me to…?”

Wanda took a determined step forward, taking her brother’s free hand in her own. She smiled up at him, giving the hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I do. I really do,” she declared.

Her twin let go of her hand and leaned back down to hold her face gently in his hands. She gave him that sweet and loving smile that he knew so well…that he adored so much. Standing there, looking at her like this, he realized why he’d never been interested in anyone ever before.

There was only Wanda. There’d only ever been Wanda. He’d suppressed the idea of loving her in this way for so long, it took seeing her in a scantily-clad outfit to wake him up to this fact.

As he closed to gap between their lips, he shut his eyes and said a silent prayer to whatever entity was out there listening.

He prayed that she would never leave his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know how you'd like this to continue--that is, if you want it to.


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